


Due North

by julien (julie)



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s01e00 Pilot, M/M, topsy-turvy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-04-01
Updated: 1997-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: When Salvatore Vecchio is found murdered in a cold  dark alley in Chicago, no one cares very much. He was a drunk who did nothing  more than run errands for mob boss Frank Zuko, after all. Grieving despite  himself for the father he knew all too well, Detective Ray Vecchio follows the  killer’s trail to Ottawa, managing to get a transfer to the American consulate  there. While taking up his new post as Deputy Liaison Officer, Vecchio pursues  his own investigation, making contact with Constable Benton Fraser, the polite  and diligent Canadian Mountie who’s in charge of the case. Ably assisted by Fraser’s  wolf Diefenbaker, the two men join forces to try and solve Sal Vecchio’s mysterious  murder – and so begins a chain of dramatic and dangerous events which lead them  from Ottawa back to Chicago when the hunters become the hunted.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio
Kudos: 2





	Due North

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** A topsy-turvy re-working of the pilot (episode 100), incorporating a few other quotes, misquotes and DUE SOUTH essentials. Just assume that everything happened the way it did in the pilot, with the following exceptions… 
> 
> **First published:** in April 1997 in the zine “Concupiscence 5” by Manacles Press.

# Due North 

♦

Salvatore Vecchio stepped down onto the sidewalk. The door swung closed behind him, shutting him out of the warmth of the liquor store, leaving him standing there alone in the cold of April in Chicago. But Sal patted the reassuring weight in his coat pocket – he’d bought a measure of comfort, a bottle of golden warmth he could make his own. Something to take the sting out of the knowledge of the foolish things he’d done. Something that he could turn to in his pain and humiliation. Something more forgiving than his only son would be once Ray found out about Sal’s most recent mistake.

It must be late, it was certainly very dark and damned cold. There was no one on the streets, and all the buildings around him were closed up for the night. Sal turned down an alleyway. This neighborhood was as familiar to the old man as the veins on the back of his hand, and he always knew the quickest and most discreet route home. The wind didn’t howl so harshly now he was sheltered from its full blast. In the comparative quiet, Sal’s ears rang for a moment, but then he heard an unmistakable sound –

– a bullet being chambered, a hammer being cocked.

Sal paused, turned around. Nothing but shadows. But the old man didn’t have to see anything to know what was happening. Ray’s tired voice murmured, _I told you so. Oh, Pop, didn’t I try telling you a hundred times?_

Nothing for it now but to brazen this out. ‘You’re going to shoot one of Frank Zuko’s men? He’ll hunt you down like the rat you are.’

There was no pain. Just his ears ringing again, and the harsh Chicago cold rising all the way through him. Salvatore Vecchio crumpled to the asphalt, grasping futilely at the measure of golden warmth he’d bought, thinking he might still manage to make it his own.

♦

‘Dentists, Vecchio? Canadian dentists?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Ray replied in the most unshakeable of tones. He was endeavoring to convey all his determination to Lieutenant Harding Welsh, standing there in front of his boss’s desk, with chin up and shoulders back.

‘Your best theory is that a Canadian dentist killed your father?’ Welsh was continuing. ‘Why do I find that so hard to believe?’

‘I don’t know, sir. There were six of them from Ottawa attending a weekend conference here in Chicago, and –’

‘Your creativity is scaling new heights, Vecchio. I’m going to have to award you a nine for this one – and that beats your theory about the plain-clothed toreadors for which, as I recall, I gave you an eight-and-a-half.’

‘Thank you, sir, but –’

‘How many other open cases do you have on your desk right now?’

‘Forty-one, sir, but this is the most serious of them all. I’m sure you’d agree that dentists are some of the more sadistic creatures known to man, sir, and if one of them has turned rogue and become a killer…’ Ray let the ghastly implications speak for themselves.

Welsh thought about this for a moment, and then a shudder ran through his large frame. ‘And you’re bringing this to me because…?’

‘As you’d be aware, sir, there’s a law enforcement placement available at the American consulate in Ottawa. I was hoping you’d approve my transfer there.’

Support came from an unexpected quarter. Commander Sherry O’Neill happened to be walking past the door to Welsh’s office and, overhearing the conversation, she stopped to offer her advice. ‘Give him the transfer, Harding. The constant whining is driving me nuts.’

Welsh nodded with an air of resignation. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Ray added.

A moment of silence stretched now that Ray had won his goal. The Lieutenant got up to close the door, and then he pushed his hands into his pockets and wandered closer to speak to his Detective confidentially. ‘Vecchio, to be honest, I didn’t think you cared that much about your father. Given what he did and who he did it for.’

‘I figure I owe my Pop this much, sir. I sent the list of names to the RCMP, but all I get in reply is procrastination. The Canadians aren’t going to make this a priority.’

‘The placement at the consulate is liaison work. You won’t have official jurisdiction.’

‘But if I’m in the same city, I can at least make some noise and push them along.’

Welsh considered Ray carefully. ‘Have you ever been outside of Chicago?’

‘I’ve vacationed in Miami on a number of occasions, sir.’

‘I can tell you, Canada is a lot of things, but what it isn’t is Big City, USA.’

‘Let me do this, sir,’ Vecchio asked, dropping his voice to a murmur. ‘This is personal. But it might end up being more than that. My Pop ran errands for Frank Zuko until the old man got whacked, mob-style. The investigation is going to turn up a lot of mud, and if any of that mud ends up sticking to Zuko… Well, aren’t we all itching to wipe the smile off Frankie’s face?’

Welsh was staring very directly at his Detective now. ‘All right, go to Ottawa. Push the investigation as hard as you can without causing an international incident. But you be careful up there. Do you hear me, Vecchio? You be careful.’

♦

Detective Raymond Vecchio was on a plane to Ottawa within twenty-four hours. It wasn’t as if he had anything to keep him in Chicago, it wasn’t as if he had family to take into consideration any more. Law enforcement was the only responsibility in Ray’s life now that Sal had shuffled off this mortal coil – and it was that responsibility, coupled with his duty to his Pop, taking Ray away to Ottawa.

In contrast to Chicago, everything seemed unremarkably clean and efficient in Canada. Loitering around waiting to collect his luggage at the airport, Ray selected his prettiest fellow traveler, asked her where the taxi rank was – and within moments, much to his surprise, found himself sharing a cab into town with her. ‘I can’t believe my luck,’ he confided, sitting as close as he dared in the back seat. ‘Are all Canadians this friendly?’

‘I, for one, like the direct approach,’ she murmured provocatively. ‘Americans are known for it! Why don’t you call me sometime, and tell me whether everyone responds to it in such a friendly manner?’

A few minutes later, Ray found himself standing on the sidewalk outside the RCMP Operations building. The woman’s business card, with her home phone number scribbled on the back, had just been suggestively tucked into his shirt pocket. And she hadn’t even let him contribute to the taxi fare. ‘Wow,’ he said. It wasn’t that Ray hadn’t had his fair share of dates and girlfriends and lovers and wives over the years, but still – this immediate interest from someone so attractive was a little out of the ordinary. ‘OK, let’s focus here,’ he told himself.

The RCMP building was relatively quiet. A few squad cars were parked outside, lights flashing for no reason that Ray could discern. Canadians and other oddities wandered up the steps and inside, or came purposefully out. Given that it was late in the evening, Ray hadn’t even counted on the place being open – law enforcement was a twenty-five hour a day concern in Chicago, but God only knew what happened in Canada. The criminals might keep to standard business hours.

Ray headed inside, and asked the desk officer if he could talk to whoever had been assigned to his father’s case. ‘You’re going to like this fellow,’ the desk officer declared – and Ray was given a visitor’s pass and directed to find one Constable Benton Fraser.

The Mountie in question was in a holding cell talking to some sleaze. ‘I’d heard someone around here had a truckload of Armani available for a good price,’ the sleaze was muttering, ‘do you know what I’m saying?’

‘No,’ Fraser replied, ‘I’m afraid that I don’t.’

‘I’m a legitimate garment buyer, normally I wouldn’t even contemplate making this kind of deal, but business is tough at the moment, I’m having a hard time making ends meet…’

Ray hung around outside the cell watching the pair for a moment or two. In turn, the other occupants watched Ray. But it was easy to ignore the threatening glare of a trouble-maker who seemed rather tame to a Chicago cop, easy to deflect a pass from some harmless old thing in drag. Easy for Ray to cast his gaze over the hunk of a Mountie, tall in his brown uniform, guileless in his blue eyes.

But eventually Ray became impatient with the conversation full of innuendo that led nowhere. ‘Garment buyer, my ass,’ he declared loudly enough to gain everyone’s attention. ‘Look at your shoe. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a hole in my shoe, and I’m not in the fashion business. You’re not who you say you are.’

The alleged garment buyer and the upright Mountie had by now both turned to stare at the intruder.

‘I’m Detective Ray Vecchio from Chicago. If you’re Constable Fraser, I need a word with you.’

‘Certainly,’ the Mountie said. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said to the other man. And Fraser nodded politely to the tame thug and the inoffensive drag queen on his way out of the holding cell.

‘Who was the sleaze in the suit?’ Ray asked as Fraser led him back into the squad room and across to his unnaturally neat desk.

‘I was wondering the same thing,’ Fraser replied, ‘and I was about to attempt to extricate myself from the situation. Thank you for the interruption.’

‘Any time.’ Ray frowned at the dog mooching around by Fraser’s chair. The dog that looked suspiciously like a wolf. ‘This is what you do in Canada – let wild animals roam the city?’

‘Ah, this is Diefenbaker. He was indeed born in the wild, but he came to live with me of his own free will.’

‘He’s not domesticated?’

‘Oh no, on the contrary – he’s very sociable.’ The wolf had roused himself to stare curiously at Fraser’s companion. ‘Dief, this is Detective Vecchio. Now, you be sure to make him feel welcome.’

The wolf wandered over, and pressed a cold nose into Ray’s palm. It was a rather intimate little gesture – and a considerate one, too, as it didn’t involve Dief getting wolf-hairs on Ray’s black pants. ‘Hey, Dief, how’s it going?’ Ray said as he offered a careful scratch behind the creature’s ears. The gold eyes gazed up at him in what seemed like gratitude.

Before the wolf could get too mushy, Fraser offered Ray the visitor’s chair beside his desk, and the humans both sat down. Fraser said, ‘I assume you’re here about the murder of Salvatore Vecchio. Was he a relation?’

‘My father.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Believe me, I’ve been sorry about him for years,’ Ray said sourly. The wolf had settled on the floor next to him, and Ray leaned over to scratch his ears again. ‘I just want to check on what progress you’ve made.’

‘Well, this is very embarrassing. I’m afraid that it takes time for such matters to be assigned. There are a plethora of complications and implications for the bureaucracy to carefully consider when cases cross international borders, I understand. I’ve had the list of names you provided since this afternoon –’

The poor fellow seemed so chagrined, Ray just couldn’t help giving him hell. In his most outraged tones he demanded, ‘You mean to tell me that you’ve had the case all afternoon, but you’ve got nothing to show for it?’

‘I really must apologize. I don’t blame you at all for coming here, we must seem unforgivably tardy. If it’s any reassurance, I was intending to spend the rest of the evening pursuing the matter.’

Ray found himself smiling at the man. ‘Oh, don’t sweat it. If it was the other way round, you’d have discovered a new definition of tardy by now.’

‘Nevertheless, there’s no excuse –’

‘Hey,’ Ray said. He looked at Fraser for a long moment, and Fraser just sat there looking back at him.

This guy was really incredibly handsome, with his regular features and his arresting blue eyes and his strong bearing. Not to mention his wild wolf companion… Ray couldn’t decide whether Fraser’s earnest and self-effacing manner enhanced his attractions, or undermined them. However, it was safe to assume that the women here in Canada must adore the man. The woman who’d shared a taxi with Ray, and given him her phone number – surely she wouldn’t have even noticed Ray if she’d seen Fraser first, direct manner or not.

‘It’s all right,’ Ray said to the fellow now. ‘Look, I’ll be working at the American consulate as of tomorrow. Call me once you have something. Hell,’ he added for no good reason, ‘call me anyway, let me know how it’s going.’

‘I’ll do that, Detective.’ The Mountie stood when Ray did, and reached to shake his hand. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, though I wish the circumstances were somewhat different.’

‘Likewise, Constable. Later, Dief.’ And Ray walked out of there, wondering what kind of hotels he might find in Canada.

♦

Lieutenant Moffat, Chief Liaison Officer at the American consulate and Ray’s new boss, was the biggest jerk Ray had met in a decade. Detective Leanne Brighton, however, was something else again.

Currently she was throwing Ray’s stationery and office-fixings around in righteous fury. Leanne Brighton was quite spectacular, and very pretty, and apparently she regarded this job, the one that Ray had been transferred to, as hers. Watching her toss his pencils helter-skelter, he thought about asking her out on a date. Ray had always liked women with the spunk to let loose and be themselves. For that matter, he liked the more timid ones, too, he liked giving them room enough and tenderness enough to coax them out of their shells. Hell, Ray Vecchio liked women, period, end of story.

Though maybe this wasn’t the best time. Not that Ray would mind Leanne’s fury being unleashed directly at him, but she wouldn’t take a pass in the manner it was intended right now. When she let him get a word in edgewise, Ray said instead, ‘This is my job, OK, and there are reasons I have to be in Ottawa. Sorry, but I can’t just step aside or go home or get out of your way. So, do you want to put that potted plant down nice and gentle, and tell me exactly what the duties are?’

Crash. ‘Well, that’s the good thing about this menial job of mine,’ Leanne replied in deceptively civil tones. ‘I hold the duty roster. Which means that your job is pretty much whatever I tell you it is.’

‘I’m game,’ Ray declared. ‘Where do I start?’

♦

_Oh yeah, this is going to get really old real soon._ Ray slouched around by the main entrance of the consulate, with his hands thrust deep into the trouser pockets of his best suit, watching the mundane comings and goings on Wellington Street.

Leanne Brighton strode down the steps on her lovely long legs, apparently heading out to an early lunch. Seeing Ray there, she hissed, ‘Stand up straight! You’re a disgrace, Vecchio. What will the Canadians think?’

Obediently, Ray stretched up to his lanky six-foot-one – and then canted his shoulders and jutted his hips, just the barest fraction, with all the insouciant arrogance of an Armani model. ‘Yeah, you wouldn’t want them to think we’re _all_ this gorgeous.’

The woman let out a growl of frustration and annoyance before stalking away down the sidewalk.

Ray smirked at her departing back. ‘She wants me.’

A few minutes later, someone of even more interest approached – Constable Benton Fraser, with his wolf trotting along at his side. ‘Good morning, Detective Vecchio,’ Fraser said as he came to a halt before Ray.

Dief walked right up to the American, and greeted him with his wet and intimate nose-to-the-palm thing.

‘Hey, big fellow,’ Ray said. ‘How’s it hanging?’

Fraser’s eyebrows shot up to his hat-line.

Ray laughed, and reassured the man. ‘I was talking to Dief.’

‘Oh.’ Once he’d gotten over his excessive relief, the Mountie said, ‘Excuse me for coming here without first making an appointment to see you. You must be a very busy man.’

‘Not really.’

Fraser cast about him, obviously wondering what Ray was currently doing. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’

‘No.’

‘You’re expecting an important delivery?’

‘No. I’m out here standing guard duty just in case you Canadians decide to ransack the consulate. Though, given your gun laws, I don’t suppose you’d use anything more dangerous than serviettes.’

‘Ah.’ It seemed that Ray’s task was considered to be completely acceptable and reasonable, which only made Ray wonder some more about what kind of bizarre country he’d wandered into. However, Fraser was now continuing, ‘I really must apologize again for my tardiness in this investigation, Detective. At such a difficult time in your life, to find only delay and incompetence –’

‘Hey, Constable, like I said last night –’

‘Please call me Fraser,’ the man offered.

‘Call me Ray, quit apologizing, and tell me what you’ve got.’

‘Thank you, Ray.’ And the man finally launched into his story. Apparently a dentist on Ray’s list of names, one Doctor Laurence Medley, had died twelve years ago, so it seemed strange that he should be attending a conference in Chicago that took place somewhat less than twelve days ago. Once Fraser had dropped the apologetic manner, Ray thought he was quite something. Very sharp and curious and determined. Fraser concluded with, ‘I thought you might like to accompany me to visit one of the legitimate dentists, given your own law enforcement background. But if your duties confine you here…?’

Ray grinned. ‘Let’s go.’ And without a backwards glance he walked off beside the Mountie, down Wellington towards the heart of the city. The wolf ran off ahead of them, happily exploring, and returning occasionally as if to ask Fraser to please try and keep up.

The humans made quite the mismatched pair – Ray subtle in his pale grey suit, white shirt and silver tie, and Fraser bold in his red serge dress uniform. If Ray was going to hang out with this guy during the case, then next time that Ray wanted to wear colors he’d have to make sure he didn’t clash with primaries. It was clear that there was no point in trying to compete.

Speaking of clothes, Ray asked, ‘Did you find out who the sleaze in the holding cell was?’

‘Ah, yes. He is an officer from Internal Affairs, investigating a rumor of corruption.’

‘You have corruption in Canada?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

Ray watched this guy, who was not only straight as an arrow, but movie-star handsome – except it was better than that, for Fraser seemed so unaware of his appearance, and his attractions had nothing to do with smoothing make-up or flattering camera angles. This was simply who Fraser was, no more and no less. Drop-dead gorgeous.

‘So…’ Ray said, rubbing his hands together, ‘do you know where I can buy some cheap Armani? It’s hard to keep up with the latest styles on a Detective’s salary.’

Fraser shot him a disbelieving and reproving stare.

‘Only kidding,’ Ray said with a laugh. Oh yeah. Gorgeous.

♦

The lovely young receptionist at the dentist’s office almost cost them a good half-hour of investigation time. She insisted that her boss was currently unavailable to be interviewed, as he was attending to a client. Fraser was politely acquiescing with her suggested plan of sitting down and browsing the magazines. Ray had, however, already caught a glimpse of some suspicious activity.

‘Don’t give me that story, Miss, it’s got more holes in it than Swiss cheese. I can see your boss from here, and he’s obviously having a coffee break. Now, you let us go talk to him, and Fraser here will overlook the fact that the man is smoking a cigarette in a medical suite.’

Rather to Ray’s surprise, he found that the young lady was gazing up at him, apparently impressed by his forceful attitude. ‘Oh my,’ she murmured. ‘Please come on in, Detective.’

‘Way to take the initiative,’ Ray told her approvingly.

‘Thank you…’

Ray led Fraser past the reception desk and into the first of the offices. The dentist himself was hiding out in the next room. ‘Wow,’ Ray whispered to his companion. ‘Did you see that? I think she likes me.’

When Ray glanced back at Fraser, he discovered that the Mountie seemed impressed by Ray as well. Fraser leaned close to quietly explain, ‘We Canadians don’t seem to have the knack that you do of… cutting to the chase.’

Said approach soon gained them a snapshot of one alleged Larry Medley deceased, having a beer at the conference hotel in Chicago. While professing to be camera-shy throughout the weekend, he had inadvertently been caught in the background of a group photo.

As Ray and Fraser made their way out, the receptionist offered, ‘If there’s anything else I can help you with, Detective Vecchio, please feel free to call me.’

‘Sure,’ Ray said, blessing her with an encouraging smile. ‘Thanks.’ Though he couldn’t help but consider Fraser, and wonder why the young lady wasn’t swooning over this hunk of a Mountie instead.

♦

The two law enforcement officers and the wolf headed back to RCMP Operations, where Fraser scanned through the computer records and soon identified the mystery man in the photo as one Francis Drake, a known felon and a suspected gun-for-hire. ‘How do we get hold of this joker?’ Ray asked.

‘I doubt that the address on file is current. I suggest we go talk to the people Mr. Drake is likely to mix with.’

‘Do you think that’ll work?’

‘It never hurts to ask, Ray.’

‘Now, in America, that’s not true. Sometimes it hurts very much to ask. People tend to shoot bullets at you for asking questions like this.’

Fraser just looked at Ray kind of dryly, as if maybe he was amused and maybe he wasn’t. The Mountie suggested, ‘Let’s sign a car out of the motor-pool, and take the risk of asking. As you say, we may be threatened with nothing worse than serviettes.’

_Ah_ , thought Ray with a happy grin, _he **does** have a sense of humor_. ‘But you don’t have a car?’

‘No.’

‘Then I have a better idea,’ Ray announced. ‘I didn’t have time to drive up here, so I had my car shipped. Let’s catch a taxi, go pick up the Riv, and then we can go risk being beaten to death with serviettes.’

‘The Riv?’ Fraser asked, nonplussed.

‘My 1971 Buick Riviera, the finest piece of automotive engineering to come out of Detroit.’

‘I see,’ said the Mountie, though it was clear that he didn’t understand at all.

‘You just wait, Fraser. You just wait, and you will see.’

♦

‘That’s my baby,’ Ray proudly announced. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Fraser, Dief and Ray were standing on the sidewalk outside the freight yards, after Ray had spent an anxious fifteen minutes checking over the bodywork for dents and scratches. Luckily for all concerned, the Riv appeared to be in perfect condition.

A woman walked past with long easy strides. She was dressed in a work-worn uniform, possessed a nice solid figure, and had her long hair tied back in a practical tail. Ray took a moment out to notice that she was pretty, and to imagine her hauling freight around with graceful strength. Oddly enough, she was taking a moment out to look him over, too. ‘Nice car,’ she observed.

‘It’s green,’ Ray replied.

She smiled, and kept walking, though she said, ‘Call me!’

And then Ray mentally kicked himself a sharp one. ‘It’s green?! What am I doing, throwing out a useless line like that?’ If the women up here found Ray attractive for whatever strange Canadian reasons they might have, he really should be managing the opportunities better than this. ‘OK, focus,’ Ray sternly muttered to himself, ‘focus.’

Dief seemed impressed with the car. He had circled it a couple of times, to examine it in detail, and now he sat there beside the humans, gazing on with suitable awe.

Ray turned to his other companion. ‘So, what do you think of the Riv?’

‘Well,’ said Fraser, ‘it certainly is a very distinctive car…’

‘That’s meant to be an insult in Canadian, isn’t it?’

The Mountie was immediately scrambling around for yet another sincere apology. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ray, I didn’t intend to offend you.’

‘Come on, just tell me what you honestly think.’

Despite this request, Fraser spent a few agonizing moments tying himself up in knots trying to think of a few truthful adjectives that might be taken as compliments. At last he said, ‘It’s a bold car, as unhampered by reticence as its owner.’

Ray just looked at him wryly. ‘Yeah. And a lack of reticence doesn’t play real well in Ottawa, does it?’

‘On the contrary, Ray. You’re quite the breath of fresh air.’

_Oh_. Ray pondered this while he headed around to the driver’s door and climbed in. _Oh_. He supposed that added up to appreciation. ‘Thank you, Fraser,’ he said.

‘It’s my pleasure, Ray.’ The Mountie held the front seat forward so that Dief could scramble into the back, and then Fraser slid into the passenger seat beside Ray, and placed his Stetson on the dash.

The odd thing was, just as Ray was getting more female interest in a day than he had in a decade, Ray was also remembering something, remembering a few minor infatuations from his teenage years. Something he thought he’d forgotten, something he’d put safely behind him years ago when he married, when he became a cop. Oh yes, Ray Vecchio certainly loved women. But he remembered now, quite clearly, that he was also rather partial to men.

And as for this particular man… Well, it was a long time since Ray’d had much to smile about. But this fellow, Constable Benton Fraser – this man made Ray smile.

‘What kind of a name is Benton?’ Ray complained as he pulled the Riv away from the curb.

‘It’s my name.’

‘It’s not a first name, you know.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

Fraser offered, ‘You could call me Benton, if you like, Ray.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Ray. He was smiling again, and it was such an unusual thing that it made his face ache… in the nicest possible ways.

♦

The Mountie and the cop caught up with Drake that evening, in a bar that was seedy for Ottawa but would have been considered a family establishment in Chicago. They’d caught up with Drake, but someone had warned him, and he’d slipped away. ‘An elusive quarry,’ Fraser had murmured as the two law enforcement officers watched the hired killer speed away on a motorcycle. And they had decided to call it quits for the day.

Ray drove Fraser and Dief back to RCMP Operations, where they all suffered through a tirade from Fraser’s supervisor, Sergeant Meers. It was a polite Canadian tirade, though, with nothing like the cruel and threatening wit that Lieutenant Welsh was capable of.

And after that, Ray figured he’d better check in at the consulate. ‘Where have you been?’ Detective Leanne Brighton demanded. She really was spectacular when she was furious.

Not bothering to mention that bewitching fact, Ray turned his most charming smile upon her. ‘I’ve been carrying out my other duties, Detective… liaising with a local law enforcement officer…’ He leaned in close to her, canting his shoulders so that his neck stretched long and fine – and for good measure he let the tip of his tongue nudge out past the corner of his mouth for a tantalizing moment. ‘And let me tell you, he’s real cute…’

Leanne stared at Ray for a moment, caught off-guard by this unexpected announcement. And then she apparently decided that she could be charmed after all. Her own lips beginning to curl in appreciation, she murmured, ‘Well, Detective Vecchio, that means you’ve had a far better day than me.’

‘Yeah, it’s been fine.’

Which was when she turned nasty. ‘Not for much longer. Moffat wants you to stuff five-hundred invitations into envelopes, then address and stamp them. Before tomorrow.’

♦

As soon as he could get away, Ray drove back to his hotel, and then decided to take a risk on the diner down the road. He’d only just realized that he hadn’t eaten since a hasty room-service breakfast that morning. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel hungry. He ordered coffee, and considered the murder case in which his father was the decedent.

Fraser hadn’t asked for the return of the photo of Francis Drake, even though it was evidence. Ray brought it out of his suit pocket now, and stared at the image of the man who had killed Salvatore Vecchio.

The guy didn’t look like much – a short though strong physique, bedraggled curly blond hair, a lean face that might turn cruel with a gun or a dentist’s drill in his hands…

Ray let out a sigh. He put the photo of Drake down on the table, and then slipped his wallet out. Inside, hiding a photo of one Angela Russo, who’d been all too briefly known to the world as Angela Vecchio, was a photo of Ray’s mother. Ma Vecchio had died when Ray was six, and he’d had no family since except for his grandparents and Sal, all dead now – well, and he’d had Ange for a short jubilant turbulent time. His Ma had been comfort, and love without stinting, and warmth of course, though Ray could remember little else.

The photo had been bent in half. Ray now unfolded it to reveal the Salvatore of thirty years ago sitting next to his young wife. Ray’s Pop… As a father Sal had sure had his failings. Ray had honored, and was still honoring, paternal loyalty for the sake of the blood tie rather than for love. If the truth were known, Sal had beaten most of the love out of Ray before his only son, his only child, turned fifteen. If Ray were really brutally honest, he’d admit he was actually glad that was over now, not that Sal had tried hitting him in years. It felt suspiciously like freedom, knowing Sal wasn’t waiting for Ray back home in Chicago. But… having no family at all? That felt horribly like he had no moorings.

Just when Ray’s thoughts were turning really dark, the Mountie showed up.

Yes, Benton Fraser walked into the diner, and he had a small smile on his face as if he was pleased to see Ray – or at least as if he was pleased to have tracked Ray down. And Ray couldn’t help but smile in response, a big happy smile that must surely give away the fact that he was falling in love with this man. Though maybe Fraser was feeling a little bit the same way, for he sat down at the table, just across from Ray, and they simply smiled at each other for a nice long while. It was as if they were both in on a delightful joke that no one else knew about.

‘I’ve been pursuing a few leads on the whereabouts of Francis Drake,’ Fraser said after a while. And his lovely smile faded. ‘I’m afraid I’ve made no progress at all, Ray. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, we’ll get there. These things can take time.’

Indicating the photo lying on the table, Fraser asked, ‘Is that your father? He’s a fine-looking man.’

‘Thirty years ago he was, sure. But it’s been hard to think of him that way since.’ Ray shrugged. ‘The man wouldn’t have won any parenting awards, you know? I doubt he’d nominate me for any best son awards, either. His last thought was probably, _I hope they don’t put that screw-up Ray on the case_.’

Fraser smiled a little at the humor, though his expression was so heartbreakingly compassionate… It wasn’t often that anyone looked beyond Ray’s surface noise.

‘Let me flesh out the details in the file you were sent,’ Ray offered. ‘This is not a man to get sentimental about. Sal was just a nobody who fetched and carried for Frank Zuko, the mob boss running the West Side of Chicago. A few days ago, Sal was carrying a bag of money out to one of Frank’s associates, and he got greedy. He happened to be passing the barber’s shop where he lost his wages making bad bets, and Sal thought he was on a sure thing. But of course this time Sal lost Frank’s money instead of his own, a whole heap of it. Which turned out to be the last of a whole lot of pathetic little mistakes the old man made. Finally – and this is only my theory, mind you – Frank had enough, and had Sal whacked.’

‘You think that this Frank Zuko hired Drake to perform the task?’ Fraser asked.

‘Yeah, Frankie likes to use imported talent. Rarely caught, and not easy to trace back to him.’ Ray let out a sigh. ‘Sal Vecchio wasn’t much more than an embarrassment all round. Me and Frank, well, we were always going at each other, ever since we were kids. I reckon Frank only employed my old man just to annoy me. God knows Sal wouldn’t have served much other purpose.’

‘Thank you for telling me this, Ray. It must be painful for you.’

‘I’ve been living with it for so long, I’m just kind of glad it’s all over now. Is that too awful?’ Without waiting for an answer, Ray continued, ‘Sal hated cops, and he wasn’t real fond of me, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t work this damned case.’

‘I understand.’

Ray asked, ‘Did your father want you to be a cop?’

‘I don’t know.’ Fraser took a breath, and began his own story. ‘My father, Robert Fraser, was a Mountie. He was the best Mountie there ever was – people here and in the Territories still talk about him as a hero. I’ve tried to live up to the standards he set, but they are very high.’ Fraser looked directly at Ray. ‘He died five years ago. All my life, I can’t remember him ever asking me to do anything for him. He never needed my help, not like your father needs your help now.’

‘Thanks, Benny,’ Ray said.

Considering this diminutive of his name, Fraser tilted his head in that endearing way he had. After a moment, that tiny sweet smile was back. Apparently he approved. ‘Ray, do you have any other family?’

‘No, not anymore.’

‘Well, I wondering if you’d care to come home with me for a meal. I can’t promise anything other than chaos and nutritional food, but I thought that might be preferable to being alone in a strange city.’

Ray was grinning so broadly he felt like an utter fool. ‘Benny, are you kidding? I’d love to.’

♦

There was indeed chaos, as advertised, at the Fraser home. Diefenbaker was the first to welcome Ray, dashing out through the front door – having apparently opened it himself – to dance around the cop, yapping away like an excitable pup.

Ray was then introduced to Benton Fraser’s mother, Caroline. She was a sweetheart, and almost as beautiful as her son. It was soon obvious that Benton got his looks from his mother, for the Mountie proudly showed Ray a number of framed photos of his father and role model – a small and weathered man, who seemed very remote.

And that remoteness might well be explained by Robert Fraser’s mother, a woman hard as nails. However, once Ray actually began listening to all she said, and considering what she asked him during a lengthy interrogation, and then got around to asking a few questions himself, Ray was quite impressed with her. She was so damned ethical, and unrelentingly true to what she saw as right. She had lived in interesting times and learned from them. And she behaved in ways that proved she had her family’s welfare at heart, even if Ray couldn’t imagine a kind word ever passing her lips.

Benton took Ray out through the back garden to meet his grandfather, who indulged a love for breeding chickens in an enormous series of cages out there. It was worth risking feathers and worse on the Armani to meet this quiet and gentle man. To Ray’s surprise, Dief seemed to understand that the chickens did not constitute a wolf’s dinner.

On the way back inside, Ray spotted a photo of a rather dashing and dangerous young man, who definitely wasn’t Benton. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Oh,’ said the Mountie. ‘That’s my younger brother. I’m afraid we don’t often mention him.’

Ray let it go for now, hiding an anticipatory grin. Seemed like there was an interesting story there he could worm out of Fraser later.

Which left Benton’s sisters – Mary with her husband Tony and their rug-rats – and Frances.

Ah yes, young Frances, who immediately took a shine to Ray. She followed the men around, until they reached the dimly-lit living room and gave up trying to shake her. ‘Is that your car out the front, Ray?’ she asked, apparently suitably impressed by the Riv, which was a point in her favor. ‘Let me tell you, if I have another date who shows up driving a beige Taurus, I think I’ll go mad. That car of yours, it has…’

‘Frances!’ Benton admonished.

‘…guts,’ she concluded with a twist of her smile that Ray found himself responding to. ‘Ray Vecchio, you are obviously a man of style and enthusiasm. Are all Americans like you?’

‘Well, no, they’re not…’

‘Then there’s no need for me to look further afield,’ she announced.

‘Frances,’ advised her brother, ‘perhaps if you approached your prey with a little more subtlety?’

‘Ray isn’t going to be frightened off, are you? In fact, I was listening to you talking with grandma before – and I have to tell you, there aren’t many people game enough to get a word in edgewise with her, or able to even if they wanted, especially when they first meet her – and I thought, now, _here’s_ someone who’s bold and true.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Ray stammered out, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Benton said, ‘Actually, while I’m not encouraging this pursuit, Frances, you are correct in drawing that conclusion. I’ve been working with Detective Vecchio, and I have seen those qualities displayed time and again.’

‘Thanks, Benny,’ Ray murmured.

Frances was continuing, ‘I know they say Americans are loud and brash, but I think you’re just plain honest, you call a spade a spade. Don’t you agree?’

‘That’s a flattering way of interpreting the trait,’ Ray said.

‘I get so bored with all this politeness in Canada. Like, I was going out with this man for almost two years, it got to the point where I was expecting an engagement ring every time I saw him – and then I discover he didn’t love me, he didn’t even really like me, he was just too polite to break it off. What an idiot! Now, you, Ray – you wouldn’t keep me hanging around like that, would you?’

‘Well, no, I wouldn’t.’ Ray glanced at Benton, and decided that it was in his own interests, as well as being fair to Frances, for Ray to declare his lack of intentions. ‘And perhaps I should tell you now, cara, I’ve met some lovely women here, and you’re charming me more than any of them… but I’m not going to be asking you out for a date, Frances. I’m sorry.’

The young woman almost swooned. ‘Ah, I know we’ve only just met, but that’s exactly what I love most about you, Ray. You’re so direct.’ And Frances floated off out of the room.

Ray was left alone with Benton. ‘I just don’t get it, Benny. I’m no Prince Charming, so what is it that I have going for me with Canadian women? I don’t get anything like this kind of action back home.’ He quickly added, ‘Not that I haven’t had my share, you understand.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ve had the generous share you deserve,’ Fraser quickly replied in reassurance. Then he smiled at Ray, and tilted his head. ‘I think they respond to your direct and colorful style. And your obvious…’

‘What?’ Ray prompted after a moment.

The Mountie might well have been blushing, and it suited him. ‘Your, er, open enjoyment of your sensuality,’ he said at last.

‘Oh.’

A long moment stretched.

Ray was almost at the point of asking whether Canadian men, or at least one Canadian man in particular, might also find these qualities appealing. He couldn’t decide whether Benton having noticed and mentioned Ray’s sensuality meant that Benton was susceptible to it – or that the Mountie was so completely unmoved by Ray that his sensuality was a safe topic.

But that was when Benton’s grandmother called them all to the table. And she wasn’t a woman to keep waiting any longer than you had to. Ray contented himself with bestowing an even deeper smile on Benton, and then he followed this new friend of his through the house to the dining room.

♦

Inspiration struck Fraser during the meal and, leaving Dief behind, he dragged Ray off in pursuit of Francis Drake via the hitman’s ex-wife.

To be honest, Ray would have preferred to forget the case until morning, and Sal could spin in his freshly turned grave all he wanted. Being an Italian-American, Ray’s natural state was family and community, and he’d had precious little of either for years. As a police officer working in the neighborhood he grew up in, Ray did have a few connections in Chicago, and he’d been sorry to leave them behind, even temporarily, to come up to Ottawa. What he’d found here in the Fraser household, even though he was only a guest and none of it was really his beyond this evening – this odd family of Benton’s more than made up for the lack.

But Fraser was in the focused mode that any decent law enforcement officer knew all about, and Ray was glad enough to follow the man. They paid a visit to the former Mrs Drake, and after the cop and the Mountie each tried various forms of persuasion she gave them her ex-husband’s address in Chinatown. After an initial setback, the law was once again gaining on the bad guy…

‘We don’t have a warrant,’ Fraser reminded Ray as they stood in the hallway outside Francis Drake’s apartment.

‘Yes, we do. Practically.’ Ray grinned at the man. ‘All right, stand back and watch how we do things in America. All we need is some good old-fashioned intimidation.’ Bracing himself against the opposite wall with both arms, Ray prepared to kick the door in.

‘You know, Ray,’ the Mountie said, interrupting him, ‘your methods are a constant source of inspiration to me.’

‘Oh well,’ Ray happily responded. ‘Thank you, Benny.’ The door made a satisfying crash as it fell to the floor. Very carefully, as neither wanted to be surprised by a cornered Drake, the law enforcement officers stepped inside the apartment and began looking around.

And that was when things went very wrong.

Ray was stupid enough to snag a tripwire as he walked across a room in order to look out the window.

Fraser cried out, ‘Ray!’ And, not content with simply warning him, Fraser ran into danger himself in order to save Ray.

Next thing Ray knew, his friend had pushed him out through the window, and Ray was tumbling three stories through awnings into a soft landing provided by cartons of vegetables – being chased all the way down by the shockwave and debris of a bomb-blast.

A bomb-blast. And Fraser was still up there in the apartment.

♦

Luckily they’d already called for back-up. Ignoring his own aches and pains and fruit-stains, Ray had ensured an ambulance was on its way, and then he’d sat there with Benny, holding the man’s hand and talking to him until proper help could arrive.

Once they were at the hospital, the doctors and nurses assured Ray that Fraser’s injuries were nothing fatal or even too serious, but they anticipated the Mountie would remain hospitalized for a few days. Ray felt awful.

If it hadn’t been for Ray, Fraser would never have been in that apartment. If Ray hadn’t come up here to interfere in a case which the Mountie was perfectly capable of resolving on his own… If Ray hadn’t insisted on busting into the apartment… If Ray hadn’t tripped that wire like the screw-up he’d always been… If Fraser hadn’t cared enough about him to risk his own life to save Ray’s sorry butt…

Ray looked at the sad results of all his mistakes. There was Benton Fraser, lying in a hospital bed with his hair brushed back out of the way, stuck with drips and hooked to monitors, a brace round his neck, oxygen tubes up his nose. And still the man looked incredibly beautiful. His eyes were closed, and Ray assumed he was sleeping. Fraser was only covered by a sheet – a sheet pulled down far enough to reveal broad shoulders and pale skin, blemished by bruising and cuts. Well, Ray knew from experience there was no point in wanting it all undone, or wishing it was Ray there lying in the hospital bed instead. There wasn’t even any point in wanting with all his heart to fall on the man and kiss him better.

The saddest thing was that this was goodbye already.

Too soon. Too soon for the fledgling friendship, too soon for Ray’s newborn romantic yearnings. He and Fraser had barely gotten to know each other’s names, and yet some connection had been made during the hours they’d spent together.

It shouldn’t be over before it had barely begun. But it was.

Ray sighed, rested both hands on the foot of the hospital bed, and hung his head. Fraser’s eyes slowly opened, and the two men considered each other. Eventually Ray confessed, ‘I think this was a big mistake.’

‘Yes,’ Fraser agreed.

Walking around the bed to stand beside the man, Ray said, ‘I screwed up, I’m sorry.’

But Fraser, bless his heart, was immediately shaking his head against the pillow, despite the restrictions of the neck-brace. ‘Don’t say that, Ray.’

‘But it’s true,’ Ray insisted with no heat. ‘I’m sorry, Benny.’

And that was it. Ray didn’t want to say the word goodbye. Instead, they shared a last sweetly sad smile, before Ray turned and walked away.

♦

Diefenbaker and the rest of the Fraser family were all sitting there in the waiting room, mourning the hurt done to their beloved Benton. Ray was too cowardly to face the wolf and the others – he simply nodded a polite acknowledgment when they lifted their heads to look at him, and then Ray headed down the corridor. After all, he no doubt already felt as awful and as guilty as they wanted him to. Canadians surely had nothing on Italians when it came to exacerbating and wallowing in such feelings.

Well, if the Frasers wanted salt rubbed into Ray’s emotional wounds, they were in luck, because Lieutenant Welsh had flown here to Ottawa in order to escort his errant Detective back home. And Welsh often exhibited sheer genius in making Ray feel bad.

Here was Welsh now, striding down the corridor with Detective Leanne Brighton at his side. ‘Vecchio,’ the man said as he drew close. He actually sounded sympathetic, in his own gruff way. But he proceeded to make it absolutely clear where Ray stood. ‘You know you were supposed to liaise with the RCMP. You had no right to be working this case. Internal Affairs aren’t going to be easy to appease.’ Welsh left a difficult silence before saying, ‘However, I’ll do what I can.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Ray said in suitably chagrined and grateful tones.

Welsh stared down at him some more. And then he relented a little. ‘I’ll get the car,’ he announced before striding off again. ‘Don’t be long.’

Ray was left there with Leanne, who seemed genuinely sorry, even though she must be glad to see the back of him. Ray smiled at her, kind of sheepish in his regret. What was there to say? Except, if Welsh was going to be whisking Ray off home, there was one problem. ‘The Riviera…’ Ray said.

‘Oh, I’ll have it shipped,’ she offered. ‘I’ll have your car back in Chicago before you are.’

‘Thanks,’ Ray replied. Another moment passed. ‘The job’s yours now, right? I hope you like it after all that. If it counts for anything, I reckon you’ll do fine.’

‘Thanks,’ Leanne said.

‘You’ll find time out from guard duty and stuffing envelopes to liaise with Constable Fraser, won’t you? Let me know how he does.’

‘I’ll do that.’

Ray smiled at her, then leaned in to press a friendly kiss to her cheek, before picking up his suitcase and heading off.

♦

Welsh was waiting in the basement parking lot, sitting in the driver’s seat of a rented car. Ray walked over, and rapped his knuckles on the trunk – Welsh pulled the release, and Ray put his suitcase inside. But when Ray slammed the trunk shut and turned around, he found himself looking into the murderous gaze of one Francis Drake. And it wasn’t the explorer.

Rather than freeze, Ray just kept moving, knocking Drake’s shotgun aside even as it fired. The shot took the car’s back window out, going safely wide of both Ray and Welsh. The gun went skittering off along the ground, and Drake went after it on all fours – he was reloading even as he swung back around on his knees towards Ray.

But Ray was standing his ground, handgun out and solidly aimed at the man. ‘Drop it!’ he demanded.

Welsh was out of the car and moving fast, coming around behind Ray.

‘I got him,’ Ray called to his Lieutenant.

It was obvious to both Ray and Drake that the cop had the advantage. Drake was still bringing the shotgun up, but now he changed the motion so that the barrel was aimed off to one side, offering Ray the handgrip. Welsh couldn’t see any of that during the few seconds it took him to reach the scene.

‘No,’ said Welsh. ‘I got him.’

And to Ray’s amazement a shot blasted past him – only just missing Ray himself – and impacted into Francis Drake. The hitman had been looking directly at Ray – his dying expression mirrored Ray’s own shock. Moments later Drake was lying sprawled back on the concrete floor of the parking lot. Ray lowered his gun, and turned around to face Welsh.

‘He was bringing that gun up towards you,’ Welsh explained.

‘He was surrendering it!’ Ray retorted.

‘The man killed your father. Sal Vecchio might not have won any Nobel Prizes, but he was your father, Ray. This man killed him, and he was about to kill you. We both saw that.’

Ray just gaped. Welsh could well have not had the time to see that Drake had given up – over the years, Welsh’s instincts and reactions could indeed have been softened by the supervisory role that kept him behind a desk – but Ray would nevertheless have expected this situation to result in Drake’s arrest rather than his death. He’d always trusted Harding Welsh, Ray had always respected him as a police officer.

There was no further time for arguing. Ray and Welsh were surrounded by RCMP officers, obviously called to the scene by someone who’d heard Drake’s shot. ‘Chicago PD,’ Welsh announced, showing his badge. ‘Chicago PD.’ Both Welsh and Ray had their hands up, guns held loosely against their palms. No one wanted any further shootings, after all.

♦

Back home in Chicago, Ray Vecchio stood in the alley where his father had died. Remnants of the yellow crime scene tape fluttered in a cold breeze, darkness stained the asphalt where Salvatore had lost his lifeblood.

Ray supposed that part of his goal in going to Ottawa had been achieved – the man who killed Sal had met his own brand of rough justice. Indeed, Ray had been there in the very moment of it and shared that justice with him, Ray had watched the life in the man’s eyes fade away, Ray had seen the very heart of the hitman’s fear. Any traditional Italian-American instinct demanding hot-blooded vengeance was cancelled by the cold reality of Drake’s death.

But there was more to the situation than that. Someone had, after all, hired Drake. Ray had been hoping that Francis Drake and his testimony would be the evidence he needed to take Frank Zuko down. Ray had wanted to arrest the man not kill him, interrogate him not shoot him…

So, why hadn’t Welsh wanted that, too?

The conclusion seemed obvious, but Ray fought against it for as long as he could.

♦

‘He wanted _me_ to do it,’ Harding Welsh said. ‘But I couldn’t.’

Ray stared at his Lieutenant, the man Ray had thought he’d known so well. They were in the bar near the station, the place where all the cops hung out before or after a shift. No one would think twice about Welsh and Vecchio sitting in one of the dimly-lit booths down the back, working their way through a quiet conversation. Telling difficult truths.

For Welsh at last simply stated, ‘I made the call, I hired Drake.’

Perhaps no one else would have known Ray well enough to read the fury and aching disappointment beneath his cold demeanor. Very levelly, Ray said, ‘He was my father, you son of a bitch.’

Welsh took a sip of his whisky. ‘Yes, Salvatore Vecchio was your father, and you deserved better than that.’

‘You are in no position to judge the man, Lieu.’

‘Maybe not. But I did it partly for you, Ray. He was dragging you down, you weren’t wise enough to let that loyalty go.’

Ray shook his head in disbelief. ‘Don’t be saying you did it for me. I am not going to share the guilt, I’m not going to understand, and I’m not going to forgive you.’

Welsh considered him for a moment. ‘Then what are you going to do?’

‘Turn you in,’ Ray announced. ‘What the hell did you think I’d do?’

‘Internal Affairs are seriously displeased over your conduct in Ottawa. As far as the good guys are concerned, your career’s hanging in the balance right now. But I’ll see you safely through that, if you let the other thing go. Don’t lose your work, Ray. I know how much being a cop means to you.’

‘I thought it meant something to you, too.’

A grimace pained that craggy face, as if Welsh himself had regrets. ‘Sometimes this neighborhood demands its price.’

‘And what was yours?’ Ray asked.

Silence stretched between them. Welsh sipped at his whisky, while Ray ignored his own cranberry, lemon and soda.

Eventually Welsh said, ‘I’m sorry, Ray. But if you try doing anything about this, he’ll put out a contract on you, too.’

‘Who’s _he_ , Lieutenant? Who are we talking about?’

‘You know who we’re talking about,’ Welsh responded easily, though he still wouldn’t name names. ‘I don’t know if the man likes you or hates you. Maybe both. He talks about you a lot, Ray – you’ve been getting under his skin since you were kids. But don’t go thinking he won’t take you out if he feels he has to.’

Ray didn’t bother replying with anything other than a mutinous glare.

‘I’m telling you, don’t push him, Ray. I don’t want to find you lying in an alley one cold morning. You’re worth more than that. Let this one go.’

But Ray had heard enough. ‘Goodbye, Lieu,’ he said. And then he stood up and walked out of there.

♦

There didn’t seem any point in running, or in going back to work and pretending that everything was fine, so Ray simply went home and waited. He pottered around the lonely old house, pondering the memories that lurked in every shadowy corner. There were photos everywhere – a few framed and hanging on the walls, others propped up against the bric-a-brac, still more scattered loose in drawers and shoeboxes. Photos of Ray as a boy, and of Sal before the liquor ruined him. Photos of Ray’s mother, forever blessedly innocent of her family’s future.

Ray waited. All he could hope for at this stage was that he’d give such a good account of himself, and take so many down with him, that no one could ignore Ray’s passing. No one would be able to sweep Ray’s death under the carpet like they’d done with Sal’s. Ray would create a mess fraught with so much blame and trouble that some of it would _have_ to find its way back to Frank Zuko.

Just to be sure, Ray eventually sat down and spent the better part of the night setting out in writing everything he knew and most of what he surmised. He didn’t hesitate to name names, and he cited as much clear evidence as he could. Then Ray bundled his report into an envelope, scrounged around for the right amount of stamps, and addressed it all to one of the judges he knew was untouched, one of the few for whom there were no incriminating photos available on the black market. In the dark early hours of the morning, Ray ventured down the street and slid the envelope into the nearest public mailbox.

And then Ray went home, clambered into his bed fully-dressed, and fell into the deep carefree sleep of the truly damned.

♦

The next morning Ray was busy checking his supply of guns and ammunition when he heard a knock at the front door. This was a somewhat unexpected development, for he knew that these particular bad guys usually announced their presence with a hail of bullets.

Ray flung open the door, and aimed his handgun right at the visitor’s face.

But it was the Mountie standing on Ray’s front stoop in all his red finery, and he seemed rather surprised to be greeted in such a fashion.

‘Benny?’ Ray asked, lowering his weapon.

‘Hello, Ray.’

‘Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?’

‘Perhaps. But I gathered new information relating to this case which I felt I must share with you as soon as possible, so I discharged myself.’

Ray belatedly and fondly smiled at the fellow. Imagine Fraser coming all this way, when he really should be laid up in bed. ‘You’d better come inside,’ Ray invited.

‘Thank you kindly.’ The Mountie stepped in past him.

The street seemed quiet. Ray glanced around anyway, just in case, before he closed and locked the door.

Then, even as Ray was leading the way through to the kitchen, Fraser began explaining his new information. ‘I had rather a surfeit of spare time in the hospital during which to consider the case. It occurred to me that Drake would have needed a telephone on which to conduct business, and yet he didn’t have one in his apartment. So, I checked the records for the pay-phone in the bar we visited. One call had been made to Chicago, to a number registered to a man named –’

‘Harding Welsh.’

‘Exactly,’ Fraser agreed with great satisfaction. And then his face fell. ‘Ah. You already knew.’

‘Yeah.’ Ray’s smile became kind of shamed. ‘I’m sorry. If I’d guessed you were going to be lying there fretting over the case, and then leaving your deathbed to come down to Chicago, I’d have called you.’

‘That’s all right, Ray.’

‘Look, I was just about to make some coffee. Do you want a cup?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

As Ray set about fixing the coffee, Fraser sat down to wait at the kitchen table. It was rather nice to be bustling around taking care of someone again. Ray knew he had a domestic streak a mile wide – a trait which had been rarely appreciated and frequently frustrated.

But never mind all that. The Mountie deserved an explanation. ‘Truth is, Benny,’ Ray said when he brought the mugs of coffee over to the table, ‘we said goodbye, and since then I’ve had other things on my mind.’

‘I understand.’

‘No, I don’t think you do. Because Lieutenant Harding Welsh is my supervisor. I actually used to think of him as the father I should have had. I used to think of Welsh as a far better role model than Sal ever was. So, I confront him with this, and he admits that he called Drake. He as good as tells me that he got the orders from Frank Zuko.’

‘Ah,’ said Fraser, his mind obviously working through all the implications.

‘I’ve been such a fool,’ Ray continued. ‘Frankie must be laughing himself silly right now.’

Fraser tilted his head. ‘Or perhaps he is feeling disappointed. You’re a loyal man, Ray. If Zuko recruited all the people around you, the people you are close to and the people you admire – perhaps he was hoping that one day you’d join them.’

Ray spent a moment or two considering this, but then he put the notion aside. ‘No, Frank wouldn’t want me on his team – he knows I wouldn’t join up, anyway.’ Grinning at his friend, Ray added, ‘And you’re a conspiracy theorist extraordinaire.’

‘Perhaps I am…’

A moment passed as Fraser glanced around the kitchen. Obviously he had already picked up on the under-siege feel of Ray’s home – the windows were all securely closed, the curtains were drawn, there were no lights on, and Ray’s extensive armory was arranged in strategic locations – but Fraser seemed too polite to comment on any of it. He was too polite to even ask what he’d gotten himself into.

And Ray should really get the man out of harm’s way. This wasn’t Fraser’s fight.

Which was when something wayward in Ray made him whisper, ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah, what?’

‘Well,’ said Fraser, ‘you made quite the impact in Ottawa.’ A pause before Fraser could force himself from the general to the specific. ‘I found it wasn’t just the case that I was spending my time considering. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Ray.’

Perhaps imminent death made Ray blurt it out, or perhaps it was the lightheaded feeling of not enough sleep and too much gazing at this man’s beauty. ‘Benny, I have to tell you something. I know we’ve only just met, but I’ve already fallen half in love with you.’

The Canadian blushed, which as ever made him look even more adorable. He murmured, ‘What can I do to ensure that you fall the rest of the way?’

Heart abruptly melting, Ray declared, ‘You just did it.’

Ray stood up, and walked around the table to Fraser – and leaned down to kiss the man. It was the most delightful thing Ray had ever done. A brief while of exploring Fraser’s surprisingly eager mouth, and then the man was standing, too, pushing up against Ray and wrapping his arms around Ray’s slimmer frame. The kiss became a hungrier thing, as if Fraser was as aware as Ray of danger lurking somewhere just a few blocks away.

Breaking the embrace, Ray took a couple of deep breaths, but that didn’t help calm anyone. Fraser was staring at him, sheer excitement obvious in those blue eyes and that intent expression. Ray would never have expected this wild response from the reticent Canadian – but he wasn’t about to argue with it, either. ‘Do you think we could…?’ Ray asked.

‘Yes,’ Benton Fraser said, in the most heartfelt of tones. ‘Yes, Ray.’

‘Well, then.’ In that case, Ray was a man with a plan. ‘My bedroom,’ Ray said.

Fraser nodded, and they were walking up the stairs hand-in-hand. Except they didn’t quite get to the bedroom right away, for they couldn’t seem to go more than ten steps at a time without both feeling the need to stop for another very involving kiss.

Soon, though, they were naked and moving against each other on Ray’s bed. Beautiful. Between them they shared all the urgency and simplicity of teenagers, and all the sophistication and generosity of adults. It made for quite a coupling.

Those teenage infatuations of Ray’s had never led him very far along this path, but he’d had plenty of experience with women, and this interaction with Fraser was charmingly easy to make up as he went along. Ray couldn’t quite decide whether Fraser had more or less experience than himself – the Canadian brought a charming freshness to the proceedings, though Fraser also demonstrated a certain intimate knowledge… All that really mattered, though, was that they had equal and copious amounts of enthusiasm.

Fraser, bless him, wanted to go down on Ray. Which would have been divine, Ray was sure – but Ray wanted this man in his arms, wanted all of Fraser moving against all of Ray. Thighs against thighs. Hips against hips. Chest against chest. Mouth against mouth. Cock, of course, against cock.

And, oddly enough, feet against feet. Ray found previously undiscovered pleasures in rubbing the arch of a foot against Fraser’s corresponding arch. In pressing the soles of his feet against the top of Fraser’s, almost standing on them except that both men were lying down, in order to get more purchase when pressing himself against the man. Wonderful, to add this new skin-to-skin stimulation to all the others.

Too soon. Even though they must have indulged themselves and each other for almost an hour, it felt like it was over before it had barely begun. A simple medley of mouths and hands and frottage, and they were both spilling over into lighthearted orgasms…

‘Oh God,’ Ray groaned. He lay there in Fraser’s arms, absurdly content. ‘Oh God,’ he repeated, all too aware that he couldn’t afford to let his guard down any further by giving in to the temptation of sleep. ‘I’m sorry, Benny.’

Fraser let out a laugh, such a happy laugh, both charmed and charming.

And to think of discovering a love this true while waiting for his own death. Ray found himself grieving over the impossibility of what he and Fraser might have had together, grieving far more over this lost chance than he had for his lost father.

‘You’re apologizing to me?’ Fraser asked, in an inordinately good mood. ‘Whatever for?’

‘For dragging you up here so quickly. Under any other circumstances, I would have been a little more patient, I promise.’

‘I wanted it that way,’ Fraser said. When he saw Ray’s skepticism, he repeated, _‘I wanted it that way.’_

‘You did?’

‘Well, I put a great deal of thought into this matter. I decided that, if I was correct in reading what you were feeling for me, and understanding who you are, then it must happen this way.’ Fraser added, with a lovely gesture from one lazy hand, ‘I prepared myself to be quite swept off my feet.’

‘You prepared yourself?’ Ray repeated. He couldn’t stop a smile from quirking his lips. ‘What did you do – undertake a serious training regimen, covering both the physical and the emotional aspects…?’

‘Ah,’ said the Mountie. ‘I do believe you’re mocking me.’

‘Yes, I am, Benny.’ Ray forced himself to gentle his smile somewhat. ‘I’m sorry, don’t mind me.’ And then the smile disappeared of its own accord. ‘I’m also sorry because this has to be goodbye again.’

All expression fell away from Fraser’s face. Ray hadn’t realized quite how joyous Fraser had been feeling until all evidence of it was gone. ‘Why?’

‘Because,’ Ray said, speaking softly, ‘Frank’s going to send Welsh or someone after me, with plenty of back-up, sometime real soon. I don’t want you mixed up in that, Benny, there’s no reason for you to risk getting hurt. This is a Chicago thing.’

The Mountie grew very solemn, and he said, ‘I came here to help you, Ray.’

‘And I really appreciate it, but I think you should go home to Ottawa.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ And Fraser added, quite fiercely, ‘Not now.’

They stared at each other for a long moment. From somewhere deep within him, Ray found a tender smile for this most beautiful of men. ‘Come on,’ Ray said. ‘We’d better get dressed at least.’

One last intimate kiss before they each reluctantly left the other’s arms. If Ray had been in a mood to be amused, he would have laughed at their hunt through the confusion of discarded clothing. Fraser was, of course, ready first, even though he was reassembling his full dress uniform. As Ray sat there pulling on his socks, the Mountie asked, ‘Do you have a plan?’

‘Well, there is a plan, Fraser, and it goes something like this. We wait here. Welsh and God knows who else comes. Sometime, when – we’re not sure. And then when we least expect it, they shoot us dead with automatic weapons. But, and here’s the good bit, we take as many of them down with us as we can. The resultant blaze of glory is too big to ignore, and casts very sinister shadows behind one Frank Zuko.’

‘Oh, that’s really a very good image. You have quite the poetic turn of phrase.’

‘Thank you, Benny.’

‘But what about a happier plan, Ray? A plan in which we surprise them, we disarm and arrest them, and we ensure that Welsh remains alive to testify against Zuko.’

Fully dressed again, Ray stood up and led the way back downstairs. ‘Well, Fraser, if a plan occurs to you covering all that, let me know. In the meantime, we’ll have to make do with mine.’

‘We have many advantages,’ the Mountie argued as he followed the cop around.

Checking once more on his armory, Ray asked, ‘Like what?’

‘One, they think you are alone, and without support. Two, you know this house and this area better than anyone. Three, they think they have the advantage through sheer force. Four, they are the kind of cowards who would not only gun down an old man in a dark alley, but hire someone else to do the deed. Five –’

‘Five?’ Ray prompted.

‘Five, I will ensure that neither of us is hurt, because I need to make love with you again, Ray, in order to learn more about how you taste.’

_Wow_ , thought Ray.

Fraser concluded, ‘You and I can take these people on, and win.’

Ray smiled at the man. He couldn’t imagine Fraser ever thinking that anything was impossible or even too hard. ‘So, what’s the happier plan?’

Tilting his head, Fraser asked, ‘Is there anything you wouldn’t want to lose or damage under any circumstances?’

‘You,’ Ray said. ‘Me. The Riviera. In that approximate order.’

‘Your home?’

Looking about him, Ray considered all the weighty memories lurking in this place. ‘I could live without it,’ he said. And the very thought felt like freedom.

‘All right,’ said the Mountie. ‘Then I suggest the following…’

♦

They booby-trapped the house. Ray thought the tripwire across the front hall was a nice touch, being rough justice for the one in Drake’s apartment that had hurt Benny – anyone fool enough to snag the piece of fishing line in the Vecchio home would pull the pins from a cluster of grenades. Ray and Fraser set up a couple of other surprises, too, but Ray’s favorite was reserved for anyone unwary enough to climb the stairs – it involved cans of paint swinging down from the banisters into whatever faces happened to wait below. Unsubtle, perhaps, but very satisfying.

‘You have quite the imagination,’ Fraser said admiringly.

‘Ah, it’s from a movie,’ Ray replied, feeling he shouldn’t really take all the credit.

‘We must watch rather different movies.’

Ray laughed. ‘I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours…’

Which was when someone kicked the front door in.

♦

Fraser pressed a brief kiss to Ray’s mouth before the Mountie left to take up his position, moving on stealthy feet. Ray smiled after him, charmed as hell by this man – then Ray took cover, just as someone tripped the wire in the front hall. There was a shouted warning, and the grenades went off, the blast ringing harsh echoes in Ray’s ears.

Even as the shockwave rolled past, Ray was moving, heading for the front door. There were two bodies lying just inside, and another man running in – Ray shot at him, once, twice, and the man fell across the steps. There were at least three other people moving out there, and Welsh would be waiting somewhere nearby, ready to finish the task if these thugs didn’t manage to take Ray out.

Making sure at least one of them had seen him, Ray turned tail and headed back into the house. He slipped through the cupboard door under the stairs, closed it behind him, and waited in darkness until he heard footsteps – which was when he triggered one of the surprises. This did nothing more than slam his bedroom door closed, but that drew two men up onto the stairs, where they were soon met by cans of paint. _Thud. Thud._ Ray snickered, and crept down the narrow steps into the basement, feeling his way without turning the lights on.

No one else knew of this escape route – and unless they’d lived in a house built in this neighborhood around the same era, no one would even guess it was here. Ray made his way to the side of the house facing the laneway, and carefully edged open the little door set below the first floor. Decades ago, coal and ice were delivered through here. Looking carefully around him, Ray saw a man lying bound and gagged behind the trash cans. Fraser’s handiwork!

Given that the coast was clear, Ray headed outside, and ran for the Riv. Within moments he was backing into the street, and then pulling away at speed, leaving a great deal of rubber behind – dodging and out-pacing bullets. In a series of glances, Ray watched through the rearview mirror as Welsh quickly climbed into his car and took off after Ray – and a thug did the same. This was too easy – they were already down to two against two.

And then it was one against two as Ray lost the thug during a chase through the streets of Chicago. Just Welsh to deal with now. Though, as the Lieutenant was the one with the most to lose, he would be the most difficult to ensnare.

Ray chose his place to stand – a deserted storage dock on Lake Michigan. There was no one around them, no one to interfere or to get hurt. Ray parked in the middle of an expanse of concrete, then climbed out of the Riv, and stood beside it. He didn’t bother closing the door. He just stood there, waiting for Welsh to catch up.

When Welsh’s car hurtled into the yard, Ray lifted his empty hands in surrender. There was nothing between him and his Lieutenant now except weeds growing in the cracks of the concrete.

Welsh slowed down his car, and approached warily. Finally, seeing nothing to indicate trouble, he parked about ten feet away, and got out on the far side – using the bulk of the car as a shield. ‘Ray,’ he said in greeting.

‘Lieu.’

‘Do I take it that you’ve decided to do the sensible thing?’

‘Don’t I always?’

Welsh lifted his brow, mildly skeptical. Ray hadn’t moved a muscle, and didn’t seem to pose any threat, so Welsh began walking around the car towards him. ‘You want to talk a deal, Ray?’

‘Yeah. Like you said, what’s the point of making a fuss over Sal? He spent his whole life heading for that alley. I deserve better than that, Lieutenant. Actually, I deserve to keep working with you.’

Sorrow deepened that craggy face. ‘Maybe you do. But it’s too late to deal, Ray.’ And Welsh reached inside his coat, and brought out a handgun. ‘I’m sorry.’

Ray didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t betray any apprehension. ‘You telling me Frank doesn’t want me on the team?’

‘The man isn’t known for his patience. You had your opportunity.’

‘Then I guess it’s over, Lieutenant. You can’t cover this one up without my help. If I die, certain evidence is going to find its way to someone in a position to do something about it. It will be obvious who did what to whom.’

‘I’m under orders. I’ll take my chances.’

And Welsh lifted the gun. Ray could see his own death in those eyes suddenly gone cold.

‘Benny,’ Ray whispered. Though surely the Mountie could read Welsh’s intent as clearly as Ray could.

Even as he spoke, a shot blasted, echoed against the distant skyscrapers.

Ray drew a difficult breath.

Welsh fell to his knees, blood staining the shoulder of his jacket, gun falling from his nerveless hands.

Fraser pushed the front seat of the Riviera forward, and climbed out from his hiding place on the floor. He kept his gun aimed at Welsh the whole time, but the Lieutenant wasn’t going to try anything. ‘Did you get that on tape, Ray?’ Fraser asked.

‘Oh yeah,’ Ray said, sliding the mini-recorder out of his coat pocket, and playing back the last few seconds. He called out, ‘You’re going down for this, Lieu.’

Welsh just glowered at him.

In contrast, Fraser was smiling with great satisfaction. ‘Good work, Ray.’

‘And you, Fraser.’ Oh, it was all Ray could do not to kiss the man in celebration.

♦

A few days later, Ray was slouching around in front of the consulate in Ottawa, guarding his fellow Americans against marauding cleanser salesmen. Ray was looking particularly cool in black pants and an ice-blue jacket, which was just as well, because he soon saw the two people he most wanted to impress – Fraser and Diefenbaker were approaching down the sidewalk.

Both Canadians seemed rather pleased to be meeting up with Ray again. In fact, Dief just trotted right up to the American, and greeted him by jumping up and resting his front paws on Ray’s chest. And Ray felt so damned exhilarated that he just let him, wolf-hairs and all. ‘Hey, big fellow. How’s the hunting?’ He scratched the wolf behind his ears, and Dief wallowed in the attention.

‘Welcome back, Detective Vecchio…’ Fraser said. He had a small but very genuine smile on his face. ‘I came here as soon as I could get away. I only received your message this morning, I’ve been in the Territories on a case.’

‘Your Sergeant Meers told me, though he wouldn’t divulge any details.’ Ray was grinning like a fool. ‘It’s good to see you again, Benny.’

‘Likewise, Ray.’ A long moment stretched as the humans gazed at each other. The wolf sat there between them, watching carefully. At last Fraser asked, ‘Have you been transferred here again?’

‘Yeah, I asked for the placement. I’m not exactly popular down there right now. I don’t think there’s a single person in Chicago who likes me.’

‘And the court case?’

‘Welsh was charged with attempted murder, for me, and conspiracy, for Pop. They asked him to turn State’s evidence against Frank Zuko, but Welsh respectfully declined. Which is probably wise – he wouldn’t live to go to trial. Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided I’d better stay out of Frank’s way for the moment, too. As for the good guys – Internal Affairs never liked me very much, and neither did Commander O’Neill. The judge I wrote to seems to think I’m an embarrassment. So, I figured I’d come back here, take Leanne’s job again, and annoy her as well.’

Fraser’s smile remained undiminished. He said, ‘Leaving Detective Brighton aside, there are many people here in Ottawa who like you, Ray.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Diefenbaker tells me that he is very fond of you.’ And the wolf himself seconded this with a bark.

‘Cool.’

‘Frances hasn’t stopped talking about you.’

‘Yeah, and…?’

‘And I like you, Ray.’

Impossibly, Ray’s grin broadened. ‘I was hoping you did, Benny. Because I wouldn’t put it past you to have just been toying with my affections back there in Chicago.’

‘Ray, please let me assure you that…’

‘Or I thought maybe you were just taking advantage of me in the drama of the moment.’

Fraser belatedly caught on, and his smile became wryly amused. ‘Ah, you’re mocking me again.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I love you, Ray.’

_Wow_. Ray almost reeled at the impact of that simple, honest declaration. Not bothering to check for innocent bystanders, Ray said, ‘I love you, too, Benny.’

A supremely contented moment stretched between the two humans. Dief, who’d been hovering anxiously around them throughout the conversation, now wandered off, apparently feeling his job was done.

‘Actually, there is another reason that I’m glad you’re here, Ray.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, even though it seems to be the next necessary step for me to take in the murder investigation I’m currently working on…’

‘Cut to the chase, Benny.’

‘There is a certain etiquette that precludes me accusing a Canadian senator of murder, conspiracy and moral deviancy.’

‘Not a problem, Fraser. I can help you there.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah. In America we do that all the time. It’s quite the recreational sport, beloved by spectators throughout the land.’

‘Then, perhaps when your shift ends…?’

Ray grinned at the man. ‘Let’s go, Benny.’ And Ray Vecchio walked off down Wellington Street, with the Mountie at his shoulder and the wolf trotting along at his side.

♦


End file.
